I travel for my job every month, with a female co-worker, on three-day site visits in distant cities. I am happily married, and my travel partner is recently divorced from a guy she caught cheating on her. Nancy isn’t exactly a slut, but she does love good times. A free hotel room in a city where no one knows her is an opportunity for her to have some good times with new men. On most of our trips, she gets laid by some random bar pick-up. Nancy loves her job.
On the other hand, I am a genuine straight-arrow. I never cheated on my wife, Sandra. Nancy sometimes chides me for so often saying that I'm happily married. She too was once, or she thought she was, and I think sometimes she tires of hearing me praise my wife and our marriage, given her divorce. When I go on and on too long about my faithful marriage, I can see her slight eye-rolls. She just can't seem to bring herself to accept that some marriages really are made in Heaven.
It’s hard to describe how it came to pass, but Nancy always had zero interest in me as road-cock. Zilch, nada. Sometimes I've been with her late at night when she hasn't found a guy, and even though she was wearing beer goggles she left me alone. I am perfectly OK with being in her friend-zone. We like each other as office buddies and friends, nothing more.
But while there's no spark between us, I really do enjoy her company when we're on the road together. Our work travel involves a lot of hotel breakfasts and dinners together. She's witty and friendly and easy to be with. Nancy also has a terrific body, which she works hard to maintain even when traveling. She tells me that hitting the hotel Exercise Room pays two benefits – keeping her tight, and finding buff men. No one ever called me buff.
When we travel we normally have dinner together, fairly early, maybe in the hotel, and then go our separate ways until breakfast. More than once after a trip my wife has grilled me about what Nancy and I do with our evenings, but I've never been tempted to misbehave and I know for sure Nancy feels the same way about me. We're good friends and enjoy each other's company, and that's all.
***
One night, in Boston, a guy dining by himself at another table started flirting with Nancy despite the fact that she was obviously with me. She pointed him out to me, without being obvious about it, and said, "That guy's no saint, Don. Notice his ring? He's married, too. Some guys still 'have it' even if they're married." I didn't take any offense, because I'm proud of my restraint.
He later ambushed her coming back from the bathroom, out of my sight, with a proposition. He wasn’t what Nancy had in mind, so she blew him off, and our evening continued. I didn't see their short conversation near the restrooms, but I had noticed his attempts at eye-contact while we were all seated at dinner.
The next day at breakfast she told me that the guy had assumed we were a married couple; he'd asked her if her husband let her "play around”. He loved wives with open marriages! It was convenient for her to let him think we were married – easier to brush him off – and she told him I was very jealous, and then left him to return to our table.
We both had a good laugh. But then she floored me by asking if I would be willing to have some fun with her that night. I guess she noticed from my expression that I thought she was hitting on me, and she quickly explained her idea.
She said there were lots of guys who really got aroused by the idea of banging some other guy’s wife. She admitted she herself thought the idea of being a hot wife was kind of exciting, and that because she was, in fact single, being a slut wife was a thrill she couldn’t really experience.
Our conversation wandered around for a bit. Remember, we’re not an actual couple, and it is a least a little bit awkward to be talking about sexual stuff, even though we’re not flirting with each other. I think I sounded a bit disapproving of the impulse, and she told me not to be "all goody-goody." She made at least one joke about how if she’d known her ex-husband had been cheating on her, she would have done it to him, too.
I said that I would be willing to play-act as her husband at dinner as long as she didn’t expect me to do anything my wife wouldn’t approve of.
"Oh, no," she taunted me, "we wouldn't want to piss off the Ice Princess. Or test if you're really holier than everybody else."
Nancy proposed that we simply walk in at meals holding hands, no kissing or other touching. Maybe we laugh a little too hard at each other’s jokes, I hold her chair for her, and – her best idea – that I call her my "wife" when speaking to the wait staff, as in, “my wife will have the trout.”
She added, when I hesitated to agree, "Are you so pure that you won't even let me have a little dirty fun?"
So, that night we did all those things. I held her hand, which felt weird, pulled out her chair, etc. It was easier than I had feared to pretend to be affectionate to Nancy. I didn't find her attractive or anything, but other men treated her like she was pretty hot. She played her role to the hilt, smiling at everything I said, and leaning into me once or twice as we dined.
She soon caught some guy’s eye and sent him those secret signals women have that say “hi there, big fella”. (Not to say I've ever gotten such signals!) She asked me to go to the washroom for ten minutes, to give her some space, and he approached her right away. Of course he did. Other men were drawn to Nancy most of the time.
Later, when I'd returned to our table, she went to the bathroom, and he made his big move. He caught her in the hallway on her way back to our table. She told him some story about how yes, now that he mentioned it, she loved cheating on her husband, and that her cuck had no say in who she slept with. She agreed to go upstairs to his room with him.
He was smirking smugly when she walked him back to our table. They stood next to me while I remained seated. Nancy said, barely loud enough for the server to overhear, “Darling, I’m going to sleep with Thomas here tonight. I’ll see you in the morning. Don't play with yourself until I get back, you understand?”
Her catch-of-the-day was standing very close to my chair, and I couldn't help noticing the sizeable bulge in his trousers. I may have stared at him a moment too long, and I briefly imagined him in bed with "my wife." I don't think either of them noticed me looking at his erection, so close to my face.
They turned and walked back to the elevators while I choked on my drink. He was so proud of himself, thinking he's bagged a hot wife, when in fact he had been her trophy. Some guys are so stupid.
As "my wife" and her lover went out of sight, I turned back to my meal. Only then did I notice the waitress hovering next to our table. The look of pity and contempt on her face was striking. Even though this was an act, I felt ashamed of myself as a man, as if my real wife had just kicked me to the curb for a more macho man with a bigger penis.
Sandra and I didn't have sex much anymore, now that we're no longer youngsters. She tells me all the time that people our age, people in their forties, are "…pretty much done with sex. None of my girlfriends have sex with their husbands much nowadays," she told me.
I had come to be quite accustomed to intercourse only every six or eight weeks, tugging myself off in between if I couldn't control my urges. My wife seemed satisfied with our less-active sexual activities. I love my wife, and I'm not going to cheat on her with some slut I meet on the road.
Now remember, I had zero sexual involvement in Nancy's "hot wife" charade. I agreed only to be a stage prop in Nancy's sex drama. I wouldn't have considered anything else. I had zero "guilt" about helping Nancy because we both agreed not to do anything sexual with each other.
But that night in Boston I was shocked to realize that I was, first of all, as hard as a rock, and second, jealous that “my wife” was fucking random dudes. As soon as I paid the check – and the waitress was trying very hard not to laugh at me - I went to my room and beat my meat like a teenager. Lurid pictures raced through in my brain of my own staid wife opening her legs for some young stud. My fantasies focused on the particular guy now with Nancy – I fantasized about him in my bed back home, pleasuring my wife with his enormous cock while the two of them laughed at me.
I not only disobeyed Nancy, but I beat off twice, pumping my own lonely but pure cock in my bedroom that night. I first imagined that guy from downstairs making love to my wife, and then I imagined him in bed with Nancy. In my fantasy, naked Nancy was absolutely beautiful, and I wondered why I'd never thought so in real life.
The next morning's breakfast together was genuinely weird. Although in reality, we were still just friends and coworkers, we now had some sort of kinky sexual history together. For my part, having masturbated to thoughts of her naked last night, I felt guilty, almost as if we had actually done something illicit together. On her side, I had been involved, if only peripherally, in her passionate evening.
So there we were at breakfast, still just a business couple on a professional trip, nothing more, each with a brain full of dirty pictures. She couldn’t stop talking about Tom, his dick, and his triple-header performance. I’m sitting there secretly enjoying the details, pretending to be disinterested, and kind of baffled at why she thinks this is of interest to me.
I finally said to her, “Nancy, you know I’m not really your husband, right? Did you forget? Before last night I never cared who you slept with, and I don’t much care now.”
She held my gaze for a moment and replied, “Yes Don, you do. I can see it in your face, and I saw it last night. You were turned on last night. Did our little husband-wife play-acting give you a hard-on? Did you play with your cock in your room while picturing me getting laid? And this morning you have been undressing me with your eyes ever since I came in.”
I stared back, unsure what to say. Pretty close. I think dreaming of her having sex while I masturbated would have been less of a transgression than what I actually dreamt of, which was my own cuckolding by my real-world wife. Which will never happen, because she pretty much hates sex.
She grinned triumphantly. “It did, didn’t it? Donnie got all boned up watching his sweet make-believe wifey go away to get laid by the big strong man! You pretend to be so pure and noble, and you love your wife, and you'd never cheat, blah, blah. You're such a better person than I am, right?”
And then, before I could answer, she leaned forward, touched the back of my hand, and said, “I’ll bet you’re hard right now Don, aren’t you? You're my make-believe cuckold, and it makes you hard that I give your make-believe wifey-pussy to another man, doesn't it?”
Remaining silent, I nodded.
Her serious expression vanished and, with a big smile she told me this was terrific, and we could play “cuck & slut” again that evening. Cuck & slut? She even had a name for what we were playing!
***
The next two nights in Boston we acted out a similar script in a nearby bar, and at a restaurant a few blocks away. Each night she left me behind as she went away with “a better man”. Each night I pulled on my cock so much it was sore.
Each morning she recounted their conversations, and their acrobatics, from the night before. Each morning, she gently taunted me, "Old Mister Straight Arrow Faithful Hubby," for getting visibly boned at the breakfast table. Each morning I sheepishly affirmed, or failed to deny, that I had masturbated myself to sleep the previous evening.
She always told her lovers that her husband was a wimpy cuck who got off on her cheating with younger, bigger, or better-looking men. They all ate this shit up; loved thinking they'd cock-blocked her husband. She loved insulting and demeaning her (make-believe) husband with these studs, because in some corner of her sick mind, she was somehow cheating on her real (ex-) husband.
Telling total strangers that her husband was a dud in bed was her way of punishing her ex- for the real hurt he had caused her with his real betrayal. Some of this verbal abuse she unloaded in my presence when the three of us had not yet gone separate ways. She'd tell her pick-up that I couldn't please her, allowed her a hall pass, and I had to sit there in front of him and pretend to be embarrassed by her insults. But most of her “he’s a cuck” stuff she fed the guys after I had been left behind for the night.
At breakfast our last day she went on and on about what the two of them had said the night before about her "stupid husband". At first, I considered this just sort of part of our role-play – she was telling me the parts that happened off-stage, so to speak. But I also knew that telling (real) me, to my face, all the insulting and degrading things they'd said about (make-believe) me the night before was getting her aroused. I was just pretending to be her husband, but she got to come down the next morning with her well-fucked pussy and degrade and humiliate me to my face - while "just pretending."
***
I may be her senior in the office, but on the road, she's getting to call me a worthless little-dicked sissy. And it makes the real me hard. She's putting me in my place; she's emasculating me and, by extension, she was pissing all over my "perfect" marriage. And yet it was all just part of a game.
This whole scene was getting very kinky and confusing, even though I had done absolutely nothing sexual to anyone. One complication is that I am indeed smaller down there than the average guy. Nancy couldn't possibly know this but, hard as a rock, which doesn't happen often, my erection measures five inches. Almost. And after many years of marriage, I was sometimes unable to get it up with my wife, even though it usually had been almost two months since the previous fuck.
Nancy's insults, fiction thought they were for her, were right on the money for me.
This was such a thrill for her that a few weeks later, back in the office, she told me she had even bigger plans for our October trip to Denver….
+++
During our first “naughty trip” – and I repeat that she and I had no sexual relations at all – we played a game Nancy called “cuck & slut”. It was important to me that I not cheat on my wife, and my struggle was made easy by the fact that Nancy and I had no particular sexual attraction between us. She obviously preferred men who are big and broad, and I’m a little on the short side – I'm even an inch or two shorter than Nancy.
A few days before we were scheduled to go on our trip to Denver, Nancy told me that it continued to bother her that her ex-husband had cheated on her - and that she got divorced before she got an opportunity to “pay him back”. Playing the role, on travel, of a cheating, dominant “wife” had been a real boost to her battered self-esteem. She seemed genuinely grateful to me for letting her stretch her libido outside its normal bounds.
I admitted to her that I had enjoyed helping her more than perhaps I ought to have. She knew, I said, that Sandra was as conservative, "romantically" (I couldn't quite say "sexually") as I was. Men have fantasies too, I confessed, and since my real wife would never be a hot-wife, role-playing with Nancy was kind of thrilling. But I ended by saying again that our real-world contact with each other couldn't cross the line.
Nancy told me that she respected my insistence that we not do anything “romantic” with each other, and buttered me up a bit by saying that I was clearly a model husband. She didn't actually mean it; the truth is she found my constant references to my solid marriage to be insulting and supercilious. But I outranked her, so she kissed my butt a bit in the office. Needless to say, she didn't know that I sometimes failed sexually to satisfy my real wife.
But Nancy had just one favor to ask….
Looking back on things now, I realize that she was smart to tell me in advance about her plan to ramp up our “game” in Denver. It would have been a bad idea to spring it on me on the road. If she had changed the script while our scenario was being played out in real time, I probably would have balked. No, I certainly would have balked. It is only because I had a few days to prepare myself that I was able to agree to what she wanted.
To better pretend that she was cuckolding her husband, she wanted me, playing the role of hubby, to be present next time she “cheated” on me. Not literally in the bedroom, not watching her in the act. She quickly said that she knew my up-tight wife would never approve if I actually watched Nancy “get laid” in real-time. But she wanted me to be nearby when the guy she would seduce took her to his room to cuckold "her husband." She had this all figured out.
***
We booked into a Residential Suite Hotel in Denver so that she and I would have hotel rooms with a separate bedroom. I'd remain in the living room while they enjoyed each other in the bedroom.
We strolled into the hotel bar that night holding hands, acting for all the world to see like a husband and wife. Yet after about thirty minutes she was dancing way too close with a guy who was about ten years younger than us.
For this new scenario, she brought him to our table, and the three of us had another drink together while Gary tried to figure us out. I mean, this dude's wife was coming on to him, and the dude didn't care? Nancy was improvising conversation like mad, and I struggled to keep up with her bullshit about “our kids” back home, and how we just moved into a new house, etc. I did a lot of nodding and agreeing. He eventually figured out that I was so agreeable, Nancy was so much in charge, that I'd agree to let him pork my wife.